Réflexions de l'alouette
by Camberleigh Fauconbridge
Summary: Éponine and Enjolras on the day after their wedding, but from a different point of view… One-shot, after the barricade. AU. Enjonine.


**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. The characters, setting and general plot are property of Victor Hugo, Cameron Mackintosh, all of the casts and all of the creative teams that have produced any production of _Les Misérables_.

**Note**: This is based off the musical stage adaption, _not_ off any film adaption or the original novel. There are elements of the book (street names of the locations in numerous French towns and cities; family ties are also as they are in the novel), but almost all of the information comes from the musical stage adaption.

A bit of background— I don't when this would happen. Assume this takes place sometime after the barricade, maybe, and that they both somehow survived. I don't care. Also (**important note**) Enjolras and Éponine are married. Know that going in. This may be as un-canon as it can get, but I don't really care. I wrote it because I wanted to.

As always, Ramin Karimloo as Enjolras (for obvious reasons) and the amazing Samantha Barks as Éponine.

* * *

><p>With a flurry of wings, the lark landed on the windowsill of an apartment as the dawn just breaking through the dark. He happened to glance inside the window and saw, in the room, a bed occupied by a man and a woman.<p>

He received a shock when he looked closer. _Is that…_ Yes, it was. He could not believe it.

There, on the bed, was the leader of the revolution— the one with black hair, with the silver tongue that delivered speeches that made one want to fight for the cause— and next to him lay… The lark squinted. Yes, the dark-haired girl that the soldiers shot at the barricade! How had she survived?

The two were sleeping, limbs and sheets in a tangle, the very image of love humans were always writing about in poetry. They were both in a state of undress, though the blankets covered all exposed skin. They had obviously "spent the night together"— the lark could think of another term in the language of birds, but it would not have been polite.

The man woke first. As sleep gradually lifted its hold from his subconscious, he readjusted the blankets so the material covered the woman completely. The movements woke the woman, and she reached out with her left hand to touch the man's face.

A ring glinted in the sunlight.

The pair seemed to be talking, quietly enough that the sound did not travel through the window. Whatever the words may have been, they seemed to be deeply in love. Had they just gotten married? The lark assumed so, from the ring on her hand.

The lark sighed. That was humans for you. These two were kind enough to leave breadcrumbs for the birds in the Luxembourg Garden, but still… One could never tell with humans.

Another bird landed on the ledge, a blue jay. "Have you heard the news?" the lark asked. He cocked his head towards the window.

The blue jay gasped. "I say! I certainly didn't expect that."

"It looks like they got married yesterday, though how the ceremony escaped the robins, I have no idea."

"Being the gossips they are, it must have been well hidden," the blue jay agreed. "But I thought it was the _baron_ she…"

"But didn't the baron marry that blonde human from the rue Plumet or something, though?"

"That was one wedding none of us missed, I can tell you," the blue jay replied, laughing. Then he gestured to the window. "But _her_ with the leader of the revolution?"

"We must have overlooked it."

Inside the room, the man was dressing behind a screen, and the woman was pulling a dressing gown over her shoulders. She got up and sat at a vanity, while the man left the bedroom. The woman started brushing her dark hair, but from what the birds would see in from her likeness in the mirror, she seemed to be uncomfortable. The lark did not understand it.

"Why does she seem so uneasy?" the lark asked the blue jay.

"Wasn't she poor before this? Maybe the higher-class surroundings are contributing to her discomfort. She probably isn't used to them."

The door opened, and the man entered. Upon seeing the woman's expression, he asked her a question the birds could not hear. She seemed embarrassed, but answered.

"We should probably leave," the lark commented.

"Why?"

"It is their _honeymoon_, after all."

"Oh." The blue jay turned. "I assume I should spread the word? Since they have so much support?"

"Before the robins take the wrong way." The blue jay nodded and left.

The lark flew from the windowsill. The birds living by the hidden corridor between rue Plumet and rue de Babylone would not believe the news.


End file.
